


Bridge Over Troubled Water

by sextipsfortheapocalypse



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Vulcan fluff, boys in blue, just fluff, so its kinda angsty but fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-28
Updated: 2016-04-28
Packaged: 2018-06-05 02:33:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6685738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sextipsfortheapocalypse/pseuds/sextipsfortheapocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every one thinks Spock and Kirk have a thing. Spock is illogically upset over this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bridge Over Troubled Water

Gossip had the illogical habit of running amok aboard The Enterprise. A natural human phenomenon, for people living in isolation, to hypothesize amoungst their peers. It was a base social interaction required for a maintained mental health.

That is what Spock reminded himself of, every time elfin ears picked up hushed whispers in stark halls. Some tucked in dark alcoves and some murmured right in the bright hallways. He had to stifle the urge to tell a gaggle of ensigns – who raptly followed the story of an away mission from the mouth of the security chief – that Vulcan hearing is impeccable.

Strut over and tell them in dulcet tones that the shape of his ears allow his race to channel in more sound waves. Even hushed ones whispered behind hands when a superior officer walks by. But more importantly, he wanted to correct. However illogical it was, to hear the rumor mill's analytic view of the Captain and First Officer's relationship was concerning.

It made the human part of Spock enraged, disheartened even, because if this is what an ensign thinks – what does Doctor McCoy think? The thought should not be so bothersome, came his cool logic, yet his humanity ached.

Spock bit his tongue, metaphorically and physically, as he passed the group huddled close. Keeping his demeanor unchanged, unaffected, deaf until he reached the turbo lift. Where he freely stared at the selection of floors, and chose none.

How close he became, as the days passed, to being unable to suppress the urge to correct. The copper taste rising in his mouth was a clear warning to himself, that the day was approaching far too swiftly for his preference. Both sides of himself had started meshing on the topic, finding their own points of agreement.

As it appeared, ever member aboard this ship perceived Kirk and himself as in a relationship, or flirtatious at the minimum. Despite the glaring regulation against said relations, and the obvious – or at least obvious to Spock – way they interacted spoke nothing more than a great friendship. One heavy with wit and sass, with scathing remarks, and fluttering lashes meeting upturned brows, but nothing more.

Spock reflected upon himself, recalling every action, and the phrase he often heard lofting from gossipers. No Vulcan touch is unintentional. And they were right, even if their logic was basic and flawed.

Often Spock touched the Captain, more so the Captain touched him. A brush of shoulders, a guiding hand, good-humored slaps, and teasing lingers. Kirk made a point to have his hands on everything, anything, always beaming and bright and trying to bleed into you. There was no difference in who or how Kirk touched. He would touch Spock with the same flirtation he'd touch Sulu, Chekov, Rand, so there was no base for that assumption; that Kirk touched Spock specially. 

The lift began moving, summoned to another deck. Spock straightened with realization.

It was about the way he reacted to some of Kirk's touches. Memories skimmed through of the three of them together; the Captain with his boys in blue. A link between intellect and emotion, an arch that the telepath followed, from the hand on his shoulder to the one on McCoy's.

Spock wished he could see himself from the third person, in those moments. He knew that he certainly felt antithetic from his usual self. The control he maintained ebbing away as his mental facilities focused on traveling through Kirk, from finger tip to finger tip, desperate to reach the Doctor he could never justify touching.

Kirk acted as the long scape of desert the Vulcan must trawl for the oasis at the end. The mirage of McCoy's inner thoughts vague and distorted by Kirk's heat, yet Spock thirst for more. Ceaseless in pursuit for something that may lack any real substance. Illogically so.

Did he reflect that in those times? Was it obvious outside the bubble the three had trapped themselves in, that Spock was effected by a simple touch?

Troubling thoughts to ponder as the door swished open. A pristine medical uniform and messy hair greeted him. Spock stiffen as the Doctor strolled in, finger hovering over the buttons when he noticed none had been selected.

“Is this your stop then?”

“No.”

“I see.” And Spock believed that he could. Use those water colored eyes to stare right through every wall built, crash into and flood his body, his mind. “Not much logic to be had, riding a lift with no destination?” That his smile could upturn the foundation that had taken years to cultivate.

“Something on your mind, Mister Spock?”

McCoy's fingers idled on the panel, every motion as purposeful as a Vulcan when he keyed in a code. The mechanical lock sounded, one that only pointed ears could hear through the usual hum of the hull. 

“The Captain and I are not engaged in romantic relations.”

“Don't let the gossipers get to you. Let it in one pointy ear and out the other.”

The doctor shrugged, “People always need something to talk about.”

“It does not trouble me that assumptions are made and spread for social interaction.” Spock steeled himself for the weight of his words, the tinge of copper swallowed but a bitter reminder of his days numbered. “More so that their assumptions are founded, merely misinterpreted.”

Silence hung heavy, near crushing as the gravity of his home planet, and the air almost as dense. Spock reasoned that he should elaborate, though his humanity considered the words leaving him as the rambling of nerves at McCoy's signature grin.

“I make the error of letting an emotional occurrence happen when the Captain established a touch between the three of us. Every time there is a touch among us, I focus my telepathic capabilities to attempt to use the Captain as a bridge to you.”

“An emotional occurrence, you say? For me?”

McCoy was in his space, still a respectable distance, but the gap was closing steadfast. This time there was no bridge, no desert, between Spock and the cool waters he wanted to drown in.

“I apologize for my invasive behavior. It may assure you, that with the natural limitations to Vulcan telepathy coupled with my human dilution, I was unable to discern much.”

“Are you implying that there was something?”

“Water.” And Spock sounded parched.

The doctor was closer still, the tide gentle on Vulcan sands. “Not much of that back home, huh?” McCoy's hands hovered where Spock's fists lay curled at his side, a fraction away from a touch. “Can you swim, Mister Spock?”

There was a gleam in bright blue eyes, a curl to that smile which Spock had never seen. “The opportunity has never presented itself to learn, Doctor. I will drown.” 

However, Spock twitched his hand in the slightest, brushing sensitive nerves along callus skin. He can see the sea, in that glimpse. The water running with no bridge to easily cross, the oasis sans the shimmer of illusion.

Spock tumbles their lips together, in the way his parents would sneak, and he submerges himself fully, content to drown.

**Author's Note:**

> First Spones fanfic. And I did not know how badly I loved this pairing until now. I blame this blog I follow in all honesty. You cannot just dangle Bones in front of my like that and then throw him with Spock and not expect this.
> 
> I am actually pretty proud of this one! Haven't written something I have liked in a while so go me!
> 
> Unbeta'd as always. One day I'll find a beta soulmate but until then, be brave.


End file.
